I Dhaerlend Dadui - The Second Great Journey
by Aearwen22
Summary: Not all who eventually sailed West were content with what they found there. Facing an eternity before them, plans are drawn up to take their destinies into their own hands.
1. Prologue

_Another beautiful evening in Paradise - as if there could be any other kind_ , Elladan thought cynically. He gazed with a critical eye about the small glade that he and Elrohir had selected for the evening's activities. _The stars will be bright overhead, when it finally gets dark, and the air has just the right level of briskness to keep those of us outside alert, and there is even the soft hoot of an owl from the forest that surrounds the little glade. Not a hint of a dark cloud or discouraging thing to be sensed. Dammit!_

He sighed, as he normally did when the paradox of life in Valinor intruded into his thoughts. Long ago, in another world, similar evenings in Imladris had soothed his _faer_ ; now, with the extraordinary an everyday occurrence, he felt disappointed by it. He powered his frustration into the force with which he struck the steel to the flint, igniting the kindling. It was time; and like moths drawn to the brightness of the growing bonfire, those he had summoned – along with a few others – quietly gathered.

Elladan gazed with fondness or respect at the various faces of those sitting on the logs he and Elrohir had dragged into a circle around the fire pit, astonished that all those he had invited had actually come and even more pleased by those who had appeared without direct invitation. Veterans they were, all of them: warriors and kings and lords with long experience in leadership and strategy. And despite their many Long-years of residence in these so-called "Blessed Lands", all of them still found themselves considered "newly arrived" by those who either had never left Valinor or had returned early on during the struggle against the Long Defeat. For the most part, all of them remained bereft of the kind of authority they were used to wielding in Middle-earth as well. Their loyalty and service to former lords or those killed long ago and now restored from _Bannoth_ had been expected to resume the moment they had arrived and then taken for granted ever since.

And now all of them gazed back at him in expectation as he rose, wiping hands suddenly moist with nervousness surreptitiously on the legs of his trousers.

"Thank you all for coming. I'm certain you are all wondering why you are here…"

"I am not," Elrohir mumbled, shaking his head. "I know exactly why we are here, and all I can say is that it is about time!" No, Elladan knew, his brother was more than aware of what was intended tonight. Knowing he wasn't alone in his feelings had sustained him for a very long time.

To Elladan's left, his father wore a wry expression and gave a resigned shake of the head. Elrond knew all too well his sons' discontent, having heard it often enough during their visits to his home in the mountains outside Alqualondë. Beyond him, Glorfindel and Erestor leaned their heads together and exchanged quick whispers. Elladan could only hope that those two hadn't accompanied his father with the intent of speaking against anything that might arise from this meeting.

"Considering just who it is that sits in this circle, the number of reasons we would have been called together dwindles to a very few," Thranduil commented dryly. "Get on with it."

Thranduil's arrival in the company of his son, to whom the invitation had been extended originally, had been a pleasant surprise. The last Elladan had heard of the King of Eryn Lasgalen, Thranduil had been stubbornly determined to remain in Middle-earth until the Breaking of the World. Five centuries later, he evidently had changed his mind at some point, managed to find or build a ship, and made his way across the Sea to join his wife and son. Given that development, and knowing the former Elvenking's contrary nature and less than favorable opinions about the _Belain_ in the past, Elladan decided that perhaps Thranduil's presence at this particular get-together wasn't all that unexpected after all.

"I take it we are all more or less agreed, then, upon the problem we face?" Elladan's heart pounded in his chest. The invitations had contained broad hints as to the topic of the meeting. If those he had invited weren't agreed - if he had misread some of the rest of them after all this time… He didn't want to even consider the consequences of that.

"That Aman is both everything we were promised and much less than we would have liked to expect?" asked Legolas, looking at no one, but staring into the fire. Elladan worried about him; and from the look on Thranduil's face, he knew he was not alone. Legolas had not weathered Gimli's demise well; and even now, three Long-years later, the signs of grieving had yet to lift. "You will have no argument from me."

"One might as well say it aloud: we should have stayed in Middle-earth, where we had purpose." Celeborn's deep voice rang out the truth like a bell. Celeborn's attendance this night had been a given. His decision to accompany the both of them West after Arwen's death had been a difficult one, and Elladan knew his grandfather still continued to wonder if he'd made a mistake in leaving Imladris. After nearly three and a half Long-years now, he still was as discontent as ever and willing to state aloud what others only barely dared think secretly.

What was more, since his arrival in Tirion that morning, Celeborn had not made a single mention of Galadriel - nor had Haldir, who had accompanied him - and that, in itself, was worrisome. Elladan knew that the relationship between his grandparents had always been volatile, even in the best of times, and his grandmother had made it abundantly clear the few times he'd visited that she was not pleased at her husband's lingering attachment to Ennor. The supper shared by the extended family just before coming out to the glade had been a real delight, but the reason they had come had proven a nazgûl seated at the table with them and been scrupulously avoided by all.

Elrond shook his head. "I could not have remained." As he often did when considering anything to do with Ennor, he toyed with the knuckle of his left forefinger, where he had worn Vilya for the better part of two Ages,.

"We understand you genuinely _had_ to leave, my friend." Glorfindel patted the upper arm of his former lord indulgently. "You would have faded otherwise. We, however…" His gesture included the rest of them.

A soft voice filled the meaningful pause. "I too, would have faded in a not too distant time." Círdan never spoke loudly, but his voice carried nevertheless. If Thranduil's attendance had been unexpected, Círdan's was astonishing. The stately, bearded Shipwright had simply appeared without invitation at the edge of the light cast by the fire at the designated hour and quietly found a place on a log. He now sat, hands extended to gather in warmth, his grey eyes glistening with a rare excitement. "But I too begin to chafe with things as they are, and I question if these are the same people that I knew so many _yeni_ ago. So much of the spirit I remember seems lost from those we found here."

"Granted, the Ringbearers among us needed the healing offered only here. But the rest of us, I think you'll all agree, are not completely content with our lot now that we have come." Elladan sat down, using body language to throw the discussion wide open.

"That is a diplomatic way of putting it," Elrond commented in surprise, smiling as he patted his son's thigh. "You have been far less tactful with your opinion in the past, my son. I'm proud of your restraint."

"However he puts it, the fact of the matter remains that he is correct." Erestor leaned forward and openly agreed with him - an occasion that Elladan would treasure. Rare were the times when he and his father's irascible assistant agreed on anything of any true weight lately. "After the first rush of relief and joy at seeing those lost to us for so long, the reality of day to day living has been less than we had hoped. What is more, we all know we have made statements similar to that lately to one person or another, either publicly or privately. Face it: that we are all here in the first place, and are still involved in this discussion shows just how much we agree."

"It is a strange and empty feeling to merely _exist_." Elrohir mused aloud as he picked up a brand that had fallen away from the blaze and tossed it back in. "At least in Arda, we _lived_. As Grandfather says, we had purpose there, something which is very lacking here. Yes, we have the time and opportunity to do all the things we wished we could before - see the places spoken of only in lays, master crafts and skills to levels far beyond what we could have before, speak and come to know those whose names have been mentioned only in stories and legends - but nothing we do serves a greater good, only the self. Now I find myself often wishing I were anywhere else than Valinor."

"I cannot believe I am saying this aloud, but perhaps Fëanor had the right idea." Glorfindel paused and looked around the circle, then breathed a relieved sigh when no one apparently wished to dispute the statement. "Things here are too perfect. The only thing outside personal improvement that holds anyone's attention or raises ire is politics - and so much of that is bound up in mistakes and arguments Ages past or present-day pettiness that hearkens back to those long-dead arguments. Among so many of the long-time residents, there is no interest in moving on; and, to be honest, I had enough of politics on Middle-earth to last me until the Breaking of the World!"

"I know I have said little on the subject before now - mostly because my sons have been so vocal in their discontent as to not need my input to add fuel to the fire - but I must admit that even I begin to feel stifled by this... inertia of the Eldar." Now it was Elrond's turn to lean forward. "As coarse and yet fleeting as the _edain_ were in their lives, their lives moved constantly forward in an effort to make life better for all; and in our way, our lives and the tasks we accepted in assisting them all functioned for the preservation - if not betterment - of all Middle-earth. Back then, I saw this almost single-minded impulse toward a nebulous but better future as a curse, one that looked backwards only to make certain not to commit the same errors as before; but now I can see that looking forward instead of simply preserving what they had kept their lives fresh and filled with new reasons to rise every morning. The tendency here in Aman is to live in the past or completely wrapped up in self-centered pursuits, and the days grow stale."

"What wears on me the most is that so much of what I spent centuries mastering is no longer necessary," Legolas added, nodding slowly. "What is here that needs defending? Of what use is a warrior in a society that faces no danger - no outside threat? Yes, I could choose to learn another craft, another art-form; but no matter what I choose, the one I chose first - the one that gave me a sense of pride and accomplishment - is useless, except in tournaments. Were it not that the _Belain_ closed the Straight Road behind me, I would again be building a ship. What we are fighting here, now, is another kind of Long Defeat - one that can have no good ending."

"But the fact is that the Straight Road _is_ shut," Erestor challenged the sulking archer. "And I assume that the reason we are here, together, is to figure out just what we should do about the situation."

Elladan drew in a deep breath. Here, now, he would make the statement that would either open a new chapter of Elven history, or make him have to think of some other, probably far less acceptable, course of action. "My brother and I have been wondering exactly that. And I think, perhaps, the time has come for those of us who feel this way to take responsibility for our lives and leave that which we find stale behind."

"You are suggesting we leave Aman?" Haldir was aghast.

"There is no need for anything quite that drastic," Gildor soothed the Lothlorien warrior. Like Círdan, Gildor Inglorion did not need to raise his voice to make himself heard; but unlike Círdan, his materializing at the edge of the ring of firelight as Anor dipped below the horizon had startled no one. Gildor had an uncanny awareness of much that went on in Elvenhome, no matter how much effort went into keeping those things quiet. His Wandering Band had made the circuits between central Tirion and the two other larger cities on the continent many times each over the centuries; indeed, some in the Elder King's court referred to his people as an informal Messenger Service. Considering what he and Elrohir had intended to propose, Elladan heartily welcomed Gildor's presence in their circle; his experience would be invaluable.

"What do you mean?" Haldir demanded. "What other option is there?"

"Aman is more than just the populated lands between Alqualondë, Tirion, Valmar and Tol Eressëa. There are vast lands to the north and the south on the eastern side of the Pelóri that have been barely touched by any other than the _Belain_ themselves." Gildor stated matter-of-factly as he bent forward and drew the crescent shape of Aman in the sand at his feet with a stick and then pointed. "In keeping with living in the past, few of our people have ventured far from Valimar or Ilmerin or Lórien - or even _Bannoth_ near the western coast. The last time anyone passed anywhere near Araman, they ended up going across the Helcaraxë. Even fewer have tried to penetrate Avathar in the Long-years since Ungoliant left it, even though Arien now lights that land as she does all the others." His bright grey gaze landed on Thranduil. "I am certain there are those among us who know quite well how to handle any of what might remain there of her brood."

Thranduil's smile widened. "Is that a challenge?"

Gildor merely smiled back serenely. "Do you want it to be, Oropherion?"

"I like your thinking," Thranduil answered with a firm nod of his head, his green eyes glittering in the firelight with carefully restrained energy.

"But will the _Belain_ allow us to follow our own wishes in this?" Haldir frowned thoughtfully. "And would we need to ask the blessings and permission of…"

"We are in Elvenhome, where the _Belain_ wanted us," Celeborn stated firmly. "We have complied with their call, and we have healed of any and all wounds left by our time in Middle-earth to the extent possible. If the _Belain_ wish us to make our lives here until the Breaking of the World, then certainly they should not complain at the form those lives take, provided we stay in Aman."

"Is this what we intend, then?" Círdan asked. "To leave the settled lands and carve out new lives for ourselves where few if any Elves have dared tread before us?"

"It is either that or remain as we are, with discontent festering until it becomes a new form of Longing with an equal risk of fading." Elrond replied softly.

Elrohir turned to his father in surprise. "What about Barvedui, Ada? Would you leave it behind?" He knew his father's attachment to the home Celebrían had built for him while she healed and waited for him to finish his tasks in Middle-earth. "What about Nana?"

"Not all of us need leave the settled lands, my son," Elrond replied, "or remain in the new settlements until the end either, for that matter. Aiding with this venture need not be an eternal process for some - not to mention there is such a thing as a 'visit'. I will help your mother to understand, never fear."

"So we are agreed?" Círdan asked again. "This is what we want?"

As Elladan looked around the circle of somber, nodding faces, he felt relief wash through him, followed by a new cold sweat of worry about the logistics involved in organizing such a dramatic venture. So much would have to fall into place, so many would have to agree…

"I suggest that we focus on a single goal at a time. The borders of Avathar are close enough to give us a decent challenge in the near future." Elrohir seemed to shake off his shock at having things go so easily in the direction he and his brother had wished, and he began to air thoughts and ideas the two of them had considered only privately between the two of them. "What is more, success there will demonstrate to those who remain behind that the Eldar need not restrict themselves to just the narrow band of lands already settled or cling so close to the protection of the _Belain_ all the time. It is time to remind some of those who never returned to Ennor that the Eldar are still a capable and enduring people, more than able to manage for ourselves with minimal help from the Powers."

"As future lord of that land, I would not refuse any assistance I might find along the way," Thranduil stated with assurance. Elladan smiled at the thought that the former Elvenking would automatically - and quite perversely - assume lordship over a land possibly filled with the same pestilence of Ungoliant's spawn as he had battled for centuries if it were already agreed upon by all. "But it will take more than just the eleven of us to take and hold a land of that size and danger."

"We are not the only ones who feel this sense of unease," Legolas offered, animation lighting his face for the first time in a very long time. "I think it likely that the only ones content with their lot here are those for whom strife ended two Ages ago, when Fëanor departed these lands. Of those who have struggled against Morgoth, and then later Sauron in Ennor, however, we probably are the only ones brave enough - or rash enough - to consider taking action. If Avathar is to be the first of many new lands, then we need to plan carefully; convince craftsmen as well as warriors to join our venture. After all, we will be extending our civilization into new lands, building new cities and societies; and not just exploring these places and then returning back to our boringly perfect ruts again, will we not?"

Gildor nodded. "My people are in a position to sound out the leanings of those we pass by in the outer settlements on our travels. What we who have come here need to do now is put together a plan of action and the series of steps we need to take. Then we should each go back to our homes and put our affairs in order. One of us will have to speak to the _Belain_ themselves, to give notice of our intent, and others to their respective Kings. Those of you with responsibilities to your previous Lords will have to tell them of your plans as well - and prepare for a struggle for your freedom. And finally, we each will have to speak to our own people - the ones who still look to us for guidance as opposed to our forebears or more ancient Lords - to gauge their willingness to follow."

"Agreed. Our undertaking must not be done rashly, to borrow Legolas' term," Elladan said with a tone of relief and then rose. "But I suggest that we adjourn now, knowing that we have reached agreement not only on a long-term plan but a shorter-term goal. Elrohir and I invite you all to rest from your journeys in our home. Tomorrow we all can spend time with our thoughts listing suggestions and possible ways to accomplish them, and then meet here again at Star-Rise tomorrow and discuss our various points and ideas. From those we can construct our plan of action and the steps needed to accomplish it."

"Did you stock up on good wine, Elladan? You no doubt have several thirsty guests, including my son and myself." Thranduil tossed out as he stood and stretched his long limbs.

Elrohir laughed. "We do indeed have a goodly supply. Of course, had we known that _you_ were coming as well, Sire, Celebriel would have insisted we purchase more."

Amazingly, the former King of Eryn Lasgalen laughed back. "Elrond, your efforts at teaching these two diplomacy seem to have finally born fruit."

"Thank the One," Elrond returned with exaggerated patience.

Elladan sighed and rose as well. Yes, the sprawling manse he shared with his wife and brother would be occupied to almost overflowing. But for the first time in almost five hundred years, he was looking forward to the next morning. The waiting - the mere existing - was over.

 _Sindarin Vocabulary:_

 _Bannoth - Mandos' Halls, where elven faer go upon death of the body_

 _Belain - Valar, the Gods/Powers (sing. Balan)_

 _faer - soul, spirit_


	2. Chapter 1 - A Good Plan

Thranduil's dreams tumbled chaotically, and he suddenly found himself blinking against the darkness of the bedchamber he shared with his son, his mind still careening from one idea to the next. The mere thought of doing something other than sitting in on endless council sessions as his father's assistant was enough to whet his appetite and make him wish that the planning stages, which he knew would make or break the entire venture, were already behind him. Just imagining what the untamed forests of Avathar looked like, and even the prospect of wielding his sword against spider again, got his heart pumping in a manner he'd not experienced for the better part of two Ages. He could hardly wait to gaze on a forest - or a land - that would never face the ravaging greed of mortal consumption of resources; a land that had been woefully neglected by both the _Belain_ as well as the _Eldar_ , thanks to mountains that had once shaded it from the light of the Two Trees. Avathar had been waiting patiently for the hand of one who would love it for its own nature, care for it and bring it to full flower…

He rolled to see whether his son felt a similar sense of excitement that prevented him from sliding into peaceful waking dreams, only to discover the couch against the wall empty. Rolling to his side and then pushing himself to sit up, Thranduil scratched an armpit idly and frowned. The blankets on the couch assigned to Legolas' had been left folded neatly, in exactly the same place and disposition as they had been provided originally, despite the chill in the air of a higher elevation residence at night.

It was a scene he'd witnessed far too many times of late, and one he'd hoped would not arise after the meeting this night. He dragged his fingers through the tangled mess of hair caused by all his tossing and turning. Once it was hanging down his back in a much more presentable manner again, he rose to his feet. A dim light showed beneath the door to what was a shared living space with several bedchambers opening into it - chambers occupied by, respectively, Círdan, Elrond, Erestor and the two of them. Someone _was_ awake.

As Thranduil had suspected, the other insomniac this night was his son. Legolas sat on a low couch near a wide window, his legs stretched out the length of the couch with his ankles crossed and his hand holding back a sheer curtain so as to be able to stare out at the stars. A slight shift of the head told him that Legolas had noted his presence. "You do not rest, my son?"

"My mind refuses to quiet," was the soft reply. Legolas' hand dropped and he turned to study his father in the light of the single candle. "And I suspect yours did the same. Do you know that you moan when your dreams are unsettled? I came out here for a little peace and quiet."

"I most certainly do not moan in my sleep!" Thranduil sputtered, and then walked slowly over to his son and allowed a sheepish grin to take root. "Although your mother, the saint that she is, tells me that on occasion, I do snore… although very softly… when I drink more wine than is wise." He grinned broadly at the end of the confession and felt his heart lift ever so slightly when the ghost of an answering smile actually graced his son's face.

"Yes, well…" Again the curtain was pulled aside. "…we had a good reason to celebrate."

"Then you are as intrigued by this Avathar as I am?" Thranduil's arm snagged a nearby chair and settled it with the back facing his son so he could straddle it and then lean his arms on the back and his chin on his arms.

Legolas sighed and again released the curtain, this time to swing his long legs about and face his father, nodding as he did. "It is the first time I've heard anything remotely interesting since…" he began, and then his face fell. Thranduil knew why such a thought would make him falter, and so remained silent. Soon enough, once his emotions were mastered again, Legolas resumed, "When Elladan spoke, giving voice to everything I have thought for centuries now, I saw a light shining through the fog - the hint of a new purpose to my days - that has been missing in my life."

"In mine too," Thranduil agreed, grateful to move away from things that drew forth Legolas' grief. "Never, ever, think that I did not thoroughly understand and sympathize with your dislike for having to sit attendance on my court or council meetings, my son. If anything, I indulged your wishes more than might have been wise because I remember how much I would have liked to have similarly distanced myself at your age."

" _Daeradar_ is quite the diplomat and negotiator." Legolas' eyes glimmered with a hint of his old humor. "I can now see where you learned all the skills you had, although perhaps someone should tell him that patience never was a trait you developed…"

Thranduil snorted. "Trust me, I really would rather not be required to refresh my council skills at this latter stage of my life!" He gazed at his son, eagerly seeking the signs that some of the dark cloud under which Legolas had suffered was finally lifting. "It does me good to hear your jest - even if it is at my own expense," he commented quietly.

"It feels good to have something to occupy the mind other than more of the same, dreary perfection day in and day out," Legolas agreed with a sigh. "I was not joking when I said that I have been seriously thinking of building another ship. One can only shoot so many arrows at the same target, Ada; or walk beneath trees and among bushes convinced by the Powers or the Eldar to refrain from straggling or growing wild. Perhaps if I had been born here, I would see things differently. But…" He sighed again.

"Before we go home, we should draw up a list of those from Eryn Lasgalen or Ithilien who might enjoy a new challenge," Thranduil suggested, once more drawing the discussion away from painful topics. He stretched out his long legs and flexed his feet. "And I will have to travel to Tol Eressëa to speak to Galion. He would never forgive me if I did not at least give him the chance to accompany us."

"He's in Avallónë now?" Legolas hadn't known that.

Thranduil nodded. "His sister and her mate settled there after the Last Alliance. In his last letter, he was beginning to sound a little anxious for a change of scenery; it seems he is an uncle to several who have yet to reach their majority who, oddly, have no interests in stories from Ennor. I have been considering inviting him to spend time with the three of us for some time now; this gives me a good excuse to do so."

"It will be good to see him again. As for me, while you travel, I think I shall do the rounds of the training grounds; seeking among our former warriors those who would be interested in joining our venture. I predict a few words in the proper ears will be all it will take to raise enough of a force to protect any expedition we should mount." Legolas folded his hands in his lap. "How large a group do you want to take at first?"

"Enough to be able to defend all those involved in building a stronghold. Enough that when we send back for our craftsmen and womenfolk, there will be sufficient protection for those who remain behind."

Legolas nodded. "We should request Círdan's assistance in the very near future, then, and convince him to perhaps come with us when we go."

An elegant eyebrow lifted in surprise. "Why is that, my son? We are wood elves, not Felessil…"

"Because our first settlements in Avathar should be on the coast, and because the easiest way to explore the area initially without endangering ourselves from whatever evil remains there inland will be by sea. In that case, we will need ships, and experienced crews to sail them; and Círdan is the one who would know those to whom we should speak," Legolas explained eagerly, then glanced at his father and looked away while seeming to diminish. "Of course, if you think…"

"No, no!" Thranduil exclaimed and rolled his hands at him. "Speak on. I am intrigued by your thoughts. Tell me more!"

Legolas took another look into his father's face and then took a deep breath. "I was just thinking that a logical first priority would be to find a natural harbor or mouth of a river, and as our first settlement, build a havens there. With that in place, not only can we offer safer and swifter passage to the craftsmen and womenfolk who will follow us, but give us a central location from which to send out subsequent exploratory parties." Legolas cocked his head at his father. "And speaking of womenfolk, what do you think Nana will think of this?"

Thranduil's face fell. "She has been happy in Alqualondë, with some of her Avorren kin who settled there, and has had over an Age to make a place for herself there. All of the friends she has in Eldamar are there. I am not certain how well she will take to the idea of living out in the middle of nowhere again, so far removed from the rest of Elven society - much less moving back to a place where there could be danger from spiders again."

"What will you do if she wants no part of Avathar?" Legolas breathed worriedly.

The idea of living for any extended length of time without the company of his Laeriel was unthinkable, and Thranduil shuddered. "I think I shall leave that dilemma for a time when it can no longer be avoided. Come." Thranduil arose and beckoned to his son. "If we are both going to waste candle wax staying awake, then we should be writing some of this down for presentation on the morrow, before we forget."

oOoOo

With the map of Valinor spread across the table, Círdan's finger traced the thin strip of land between the southeastern coast and the steep slopes of the Pelóri that was Avathar. "How wide do you think the land is?"

Gildor leaned over and placed a long finger between the dot that was Tirion and Ilmarin. "We know that, as the eagle flies, it is fifty leagues from here to here." He marked the distance on his finger and then moved it to span the distance between the shoreline and the peaks of the mountains in question. "If the map is correct, then Avathar is perhaps thirty leagues at the widest point." He moved the finger. "Most of it is perhaps twenty leagues from coast to mountaintops otherwise."

"How long since a cartographer mapped the coastline?"

Gildor settled back in his chair and took up his goblet of wine. "Of Avathar? I would doubt that any Eldar has undertaken the task. This map is of…" He leaned forward to turn the corner of the delicate parchment over, and then nodded and stated, "As I suspected, this was copied from that provided by the _Belain_ themselves." The parchment corner fell back onto the table when he settled back into the chair more comfortably.

Círdan mirrored his old friend by relaxing back against his own chair. "In that case, I would hope that the contours of the land, at least, are correct. It is too bad that we do not know whether the land is forested, plains or whatever. There is no indication of rivers either, although one would imagine that there would certainly be quite a number of them."

"If all these things were indicated on the map, would there be any need to explore?" Gildor grinned.

Círdan chuckled and answered, "I do not know, my friend. There is a vast difference between seeing some simple symbol for trees or a river scratched into parchment and visiting the reality of a living forest or hearing the sound of running water. I am certain Thranduil would be able to school you in the way he perceives that."

"Thranduil." Gildor took another sip of his wine. "Now there was an Elf easy to nudge into action."

"Not surprising; he led his people without the benefit of a Ring of Power for well over an Age. Now he sits and takes notes at his father's liege lord's council table. That is a far fall indeed for one as proud and capable as he."

"And you? Do you not also sit on that same liege lord's council and take notes more than make decisions for the Falathrim?"

Círdan's face crinkled into a wry expression. "Although it does not happen too often, I too act as representative of my people in Tol Eressëa when matters before King Thingol touch on us. And I ever find it a chore to try to figure out whether the issue with which we are dealing is merely the continuation of old arguments or something more immediate in nature. The players do not change, nor does the tone of the meeting from one day to the next." He sipped at his wine, and his eyes glazed for a moment. "I miss the Sea - and that is something I never thought I would say." He blinked and seemed to shake off his brief reverie. "What about you? You and your people seem free from much that the rest of us who came this evening seem to find disquieting."

"My people and I are, I think, disappointments to the _Belain_." Gildor swirled his wine in his goblet and watched the dark red liquid coat the delicate glass while he considered his situation. "And even my lord Finrod is disappointed in me and those I lead, for we still do not choose to find permanent lodging. We continue to wander, and wander far afield of my lord's venue at that. I understand what you and the others are going through, for I know how I would feel if caged in one of these cities of stone and antiquity."

"So for you, this is more about extending the roads you and your people would travel."

He nodded slowly. "Perhaps that," he offered, "as well as lending the experience of living constantly on the move to the proposition of exploring new lands, which is something the _Eldar_ have not truly faced either since leaving Cuiviénen or since being forced to cross the Helcaraxë. It is one thing to be out in a military maneuver, tracking the Enemy and strategizing on how best to attack, defeat Him, and then return home safely. It is another matter entirely to penetrate into lands that have not seen the _Eldar_ at all with the aim of establishing new cities and societies. Who knows what new dangers exist in these lands we so casually are considering annexing into our Eldamar?"

Círdan toyed with the sparse whiskers on his chin. "Someone should mention that to Thranduil, I suppose," he mused.

"Hmph! That one is so excited by the prospect of facing spiders again, I doubt the thought of anything else will daunt him." Gildor drained the end of his wine and put the goblet on the table near the map. "I think that, if left to his own devices, he would have bounded out of the house and headed straight for the stables to begin the journey, with Legolas coming close on his heels." He stood and carefully began rolling the map up to fit back into its protective cylinder again. "What is more worrisome to me, however, is convincing one of us to take up the matter with the _Belain_ themselves," he said quietly.

"Or with the Kings," Círdan countered. " Do you suppose there is any chance we can get the same individual to make all the presentations?"

Gildor shrugged. "I would imagine that will depend on which of us we can convince to take on the first task."

Gildor watched Círdan sigh and nod, and just knew that the Shipwright would probably choose not to be on the short list of those to be asked. For that matter, he could already hear the nominations for which elf to take on which presentation; and he was fairly certain he wasn't going to like what he heard.

oOoOo

"So much for another bonfire," Haldir commented quietly as he stood in the open doorway to the garden, watching the rain fall gently. Elladan had to agree that the weather had dampened things considerably. "Do you think the _Belain_ have already caught scent of what we intend?"

"Preventing a bonfire is not going to stop what was begun last night." Celeborn turned away and watched the servants finish arranging the eleven chairs in a close semicircle in front of the hearth. "They didn't stop Fëanor; they won't stop us."

"You sound so certain."

Celeborn shrugged and said, "I am."

"How can you be so sure?" Haldir shook his head. "Even though they allowed the Noldor to leave, they made certain Fëanor and his people understood the consequences of their act."

"But whom do we defy?" Elladan asked, putting a companionable arm about the shoulders of both standing in the doorway. "Do we take something the _Belain_ want and need to rekindle the Two Trees - or go in search of revenge? No. We simply wish to create new lives for ourselves away from those who have made life in Aman difficult for us."

Haldir sighed softly. "Something tells me that they do not need a reason to make similar threats to us."

"Now _that_ is the Haldir I have known his entire life; the one determined to be the eternal pessimist among us. We will need your doubts to poke all possible holes in any plans we make so that we can anticipate our obstructions as fully forewarned as possible," Celeborn offered a fond smile to his former head of the Lothlorien wardens.

"Peace. The rest are gathering," Elladan sought to soothe his old friend. "It's time to stop watching the starless sky and come listen to council." His hand on each man's shoulder steered them back into the room and toward the chairs in front of the hearth.

The smile hadn't soothed Haldir at all. He glared at Celeborn and hissed, "'Eternal pessimist'? Is that how you see me?"

"It truly was not meant as an insult. Would 'eternal skeptic' be more acceptable to you, then?"

"I would have you know that I am neither pessimistic nor skeptical," Haldir huffed, only partly mollified. "I am simply being pragmatic."

"Would you two stop it, please? You make my arguments with Elrohir sound infantile by comparison." Elladan chuckled and shook his head. Celeborn had always treated Haldir as kin, even as a son; and the bickering between those two could easily rival anything he'd ever heard pass between Thranduil and a more lighthearted Legolas in the depths of the mountain Hall in _Taur-e-Ndaedelos_.

Elrond looked up as his son directed his guests past him. "That is not a difficult thing to do, my son," he quipped with exaggerated patience. "Your arguments with your brother usually are quite infantile in nature. Even Celebriel agrees."

Elladan shot a withering glance at his father as his grandfather and old friend took their places, and then moved to stand in front of the hearth. "Now that we are all here," he began, drawing the peripheral conversations to a close and all eyes to him, "I want to say that I am encouraged by the number of sheets of paper I see. We all have done our homework."

"And where are _your_ thoughts, elfling?" Glorfindel demanded, drawing a round of chuckles.

Elrohir waved the sheets he held in the air. "Here. We worked on them together."

"How do we want to do this? Should we just start at one end of the line and go in order?" Thranduil leaned forward, his forearms on his thighs. Elladan could see that the gleam of excitement in the former Elvenking's eyes had not dimmed over the course of the day.

"You are the one sitting on the end, and most likely the one most interested in getting things rolling. Go ahead and start. I doubt that once the discussion gets started, we will need to be quite so formal." Erestor looked about the room. "Elladan, Elrohir, since we are indoors, do you think we could have wine to keep our tongues moistened?"

Thranduil snorted impatiently. "We can relax and drink to our heart's content when we are finished; what we need now are clear heads."

"Just start, Father," Legolas shrugged from next to him. "You know that is what you want to do…" He looked around at the other faces. "Keep in mind that we worked out these points together last night."

"It was Legolas' idea, and I concur, that the initial reconnaissance of the land should take place from the sea."

Círdan sat forward immediately. "The sea? Why?"

"Because one of the best ways to explore an area the size of what we are proposing is to first establish a firm and relatively safe base of operations, with clear lines of supply from Eldamar," Legolas jumped in. "I suggest that we outfit a ship with enough supplies and manpower, sail south from Alqualondë - or wherever else we decide as our link back here - with the express purpose of discovering a peaceful cove or inlet in which we could establish a Haven of sorts."

"I like this," Elrond exclaimed, nodding. "Once a base of operations is established, smaller exploratory parties could begin to venture from there inland."

"That was Legolas' thought as well."

"You will need plenty of warriors, if the rumors of some of Ungoliant's breed and other, foul things are to be trusted. How many do you suggest going on this initial trip?" Glorfindel asked, intrigued.

Thranduil smiled, and Elladan knew he was pleased that things had started so easily. "I was thinking a full company, along with about a dozen carpenters and…"

"Wait a moment. Just how big a ship are you suggesting we take out?" Círdan asked pointedly. "A full company, a dozen or so carpenters, and how many of us? We will need firm numbers to know whether we will be purchasing a ship or building a new one."

"I am hoping to convince you to come with us, Master Círdan," Thranduil stated earnestly. "Your expertise in choosing an able crew, as well as your skill in mapmaking would be invaluable."

Gildor began to nod. "Considering that the only map we have of the area was drawn up by Ulmo who knows how long ago, that is a good idea. Features very well may have changed in the Long-years, and who knows how much of the land fell into the sea at the curving of the world."

Círdan exchanged knowing glances with Gildor and then nodded. "I accept your offer, Thranduil, but that still leaves my question unanswered."

Thranduil's face broke into a wide smile, and he slapped Legolas' thigh with the back of his hand.

"Much will depend on how many warriors voice their interest," Legolas replied, giving his father a quick smile in return. "If we estimate between seventy to one hundred warriors, twelve to fifteen carpenters, the crew of the ship and ourselves, we are probably looking at no less than one hundred and no more than one hundred fifty elves."

Círdan's eyes widened, and then he sat back rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "I shall start looking into potential shipyards, then. We will likely need something much larger than the fishing vessels and ferries from Tol Eressëa that are the more common traffic in these waters. We will need something at least on the line of one of the larger swan ships that my people built in Mithlond." He began to smile. "I can think of a number of ship builders who will be more than happy to be back at work - and I would be willing to bet that they would double as fully skilled carpenters when it comes to building a settlement capable of being defended, if necessary."

"But where are we going to get a full company of warriors willing to venture out into the unknown - and on a ship at that?" Glorfindel wanted to know.

"I am volunteering to visit most of the sparring rings and arenas in Eldamar, with an eye to finding as many of the Eryn Lasgalen or Ithilien warriors as possible who might be interested," Legolas answered with a casual smile.

Celeborn rubbed his chin. "This is to be a Silvan enclave, then?"

"More than likely," Thranduil answered. "I consider myself and my people Silvan and not Sindarin anymore."

"I take it you intend to build with wood at first?" Erestor inquired.

Thranduil nodded. "It would provide reasonable shelter with the least amount of time spent in construction. Once we are in a position to make a more permanent presence there, we will send for some stoneworkers."

"I think that these ideas are a very sound beginning. Legolas has offered to sound out the warriors from Eryn Lasgalen and Ithilien, to see how many are interested." Elrond sat forward. "What about some of the other tasks that need to be handled?" he asked.

"Elladan and I can see about finding masons and stoneworkers who would be willing to at least temporarily relocate once there is a settlement to relocate _to_. And we would be interested in coming along on the initial voyage as well," Elrohir spoke up immediately. His brother next to him nodded agreement.

Erestor leaned forward. "I suppose I could begin to make lists of all the supplies we would need to have on hand at departure. I shall need to know as soon as possible about the precise number of people I am to plan for, though."

"I was thinking that since this is to be a more Silvan settlement, it is possible that some of our former Lothlórien warriors might also be interested in helping out as well," Celeborn declared quietly. "Haldir, perhaps you could put out a quiet word among your colleagues once we are home?"

Haldir nodded. "That is easily enough done."

Elrond put up a hand to gather attention. "This is all well and good, and should move our proposed venture along in good time; but we are forgetting something. We need to inform - or ask permission - of the _Belain_ and of the Kings. At the very least, they need to know what we intend - and we need to know what we can expect of them as a response." He looked around at the faces in the firelight. "Do we have any volunteers?"

Silence.

"I can speak to King Finwë, if no one else wishes to do it," Gildor said with a deep sigh. Elladan just knew that he'd waited several minutes while all of them had looked around at each other with wide eyes before finally breaking the silence. "I am of his house, however many times removed; perhaps that will smooth the way some."

"And I can speak to King Olwë, for much the same reason," Círdan stated with resignation.

"And I can speak to Manwë," Glorfindel's sigh was as deep as Gildor's.

"Will he give you an audience?" Haldir asked in a small voice.

"More than likely. I am probably the only one here who is remotely familiar with any of the _Belain_ on their home territory." He grinned impishly. "And there is little that he can say that will alarm me, inasmuch as I have already been through much that most here cannot even imagine."

Thranduil squirmed in his seat. "I suppose I should probably talk to King Thingol," he admitted, "inasmuch as it is _his_ council sessions that I have been sitting in on and taking notes. My father tells me that since my handwriting is better than his, the King prefers to read my record of proceedings of late. Father will not enjoy the idea of having to go back to taking his own notes either…"

"I told you _Daeradar_ needed to be reminded that patience was not one of your strongest talents," Legolas quipped quietly with a mischievous twinkle in his eye that had several nearby choking back laughter.

"All we need do now is decide when and where we should meet again to review where we stand on our preparations. Elladan, do you and your brother mind playing host to us again, should we decide to descend upon your home for such a gathering?" Celeborn's eyes twinkled at his grandsons.

"I think I speak for the both of us when I say that we would be honored to host the next gathering of our little group of conspirators." Elladan dipped his head formally.

"Given travel times, and the number or difficulty of the interviews we are proposing here, I would suggest that we meet here again in six months for progress reports," Elrond declared calmly. "Are there any other ideas that need presentation at this time?"

Haldir shook his head. "Now that we are proposing to travel to Avathar by sea rather than by land, many of the ideas Lord Celeborn and I worked out no longer apply." He glanced at the brothers Peredhil. "You?"

"I think we all have more than enough to keep us busy," Elrohir replied. "Besides, with each of us having a specific task to perform, the work will go swiftly and smoothly."

"Then if there are no other thoughts or ideas, I suggest that either Elladan or Elrohir find several carafes of wine and enough goblets to keep us all contented," Erestor announced solemnly. "At the very least, we should toast our enterprise properly."

Thranduil nodded. "Hear, hear!"

 _Sindarin Vocabulary:_

 _Belain - the Valar, the Powers (sing. Balan)_

 _Daeradar - Grandfather (lit "Great Father")_


	3. Chapter 2 - Aftermath

Thranduil sighed as he directed his mount up the final rise to the home he shared with his wife and son. It wasn't Greenwood the Great, or even Eryn Lasgalen, but Laeriel had found a small, wooded valley to call home. The manor of Eryn Dithen was built in the old Silvan style, a comfortable and sprawling talan nestled in the strong, spreading branches of the ancient trees. It reminded him enough of the home they had shared together in Emyn Duir that he'd felt very comfortable there from the moment of his arrival.

The sight of Laeriel, strong and whole, standing on the green before the winding stairs up the trunk of the tree with a welcoming cup between her hands, never failed to make his heart stop and then beat faster. " _Meleth_ ," he breathed softly as he slid from his mount.

He barely even noticed his grinning son guiding both horses in the direction of the stable with a gentle hand to the neck of each, for his eyes were fixed on his beautiful, golden-haired wife. It didn't seem real that he'd been with her again already for seventy-five years, for each time he returned home to find her waiting for him, it was as if he were meeting her at the docks of Tol Eressëa all over again and feeling an Age of loneliness and heartache falling away.

"Husband!" Laeriel responded and smiled sweetly at him as she extended the cup. "Welcome home. How was this meeting you attended?"

Thranduil took the cup and sipped the sweet wine from it. "It was very enlightening, and very intriguing," he began, not truly wishing to delve into the delicate subject much deeper as yet. "Many I have not seen in Long-years were there: Elrond, Círdan, Erestor, Glorfindel…"

Laeriel's delicate eyebrows rose in surprise over storm-grey eyes. "Indeed? You did not use to return from attending meetings with the Noldor in such high spirits." She glanced over his shoulder. "Where is Legolas?"

"He took the horses; no doubt he will return after they are groomed and fed," he replied, returning the cup.

She handed the cup to a servant, who bowed and took the vessel away. "I missed you," she admitted as she stepped into his embrace. "I am very jealous of anything that would take you away from me now."

Thranduil was grateful that she was so much shorter than he, and had her face pressed into his chest, when he closed his eyes and grimaced. _She will not appreciate the news I bring to her this day - nor the idea that it will steal both myself and Legolas from her for an extended period of time._ His arms tightened around her. "I do not leave you easily, my heart - you know this, do you not?"

He felt her stiffen in his arms and then pull back slightly. "What is it, Thranduil?" she demanded gently.

"What?" he stared at her in surprise. "Is something amiss?"

Her golden brows folded into a frown. "When you start to use flowery endearments like that, it usually means that you are up to something you know I will not approve of," she explained in a tired tone. "And even over an Age of separation and holding back first Sauron and then the encroachment of the _edain_ has not changed you that much. So you might as well tell me now…"

"Can we not spend a few quiet and gentle moments together beforehand?" Thranduil murmured, eagerly reaching out to gather her closer again and then bury his nose in his wife's fragrant hair. As much as he was looking forward to exploring and settling new lands far from the boring council chambers that had been his life for the last twenty years, leaving Laeriel behind while making a safe home for her would be one of the hardest things he'd ever done. Few knew the true depths of his grief when she had been bitten by that spider so soon after giving birth to Legolas except perhaps Galion or Legolas; and even they knew only what they had seen in unguarded moments of surprise or extreme duress.

Laeriel sighed and allowed herself to be pulled close again. "At least tell me if Legolas intends to be involved as well."

"That is partly why I would rather we wait until we are all together before speaking to you," Thranduil told her gently. "Firstly because I would like a chance to greet my wife properly; and secondly because what needs to be said will affect us as a family, and so should be discussed with all of us present."

"You did not manage to insult Elrond or his sons in their home, did you?"

He began to chuckle in memory of a similar incident during a visit to Imladris not long before Legolas was conceived. "No, my love, you may trust that I managed to insult no one this trip. The wine was excellent, the food plentiful and delicious, the company even better than ever, and the differences between Noldor and Vanyar and Sindar seemed to fall away. All of us who had been invited to this get-together had similar sentiments about a great many things that outweigh lineage."

"That is a relief," Laeriel sighed and then moved slightly out of his embrace to wrap an arm about his waist and begin leading him to the stairs. "Elrond holds the ear of several Kings - and even Manwë, if rumors are to be believed. Your father would not appreciate…"

"My father does not appreciate a great many things. But Elrond has mellowed since he traveled over the Sea and returned to Celebrían, and would be harder than ever to provoke." Thranduil smiled in memory. "The twins have quite an interesting home in Tirion too - stone, of course, Noldor never seem to build with anything else - to the west of Tuna, near the narrows of the Calacirya. Why they settled there rather than near their parents…" He sniffed as he entered the main hall of the talan. "Is that roast venison I smell?"

"Yes," she grinned, adding, "I know how hungry you get when you need to travel any distance lately. But Thranduil, could you not tell me at least a little…"

He shook his head. "Oh, come now! After a long journey, certainly I can hope to feast on one of my favorite meals before having to dive right into…"

"Is it safe yet?" Legolas' voice sounded from behind them as he finished mounting the stairs and walked through the front doorway.

Laeriel groaned and pushed away from her husband. "If you must ask that question, my son, then I cannot promise that the answer will be yes. But your father still has said nothing about anything, which leaves me to imagine all sorts of things…"

"At the moment, it is safe," Thranduil hastened to say. "I am glad you are here. It seems our meal is almost ready, and your mother is anxious to hear our news from Tirion." He aimed a cautionary eye at his son. "I told her that since it concerns us all as a family, that all discussion should wait until we are all together. Over a pleasant feast should be a satisfactory venue to tell her all."

Legolas nodded in understanding and accepted a quick hug from his mother before stepping back to say, "I agree, Father; but perhaps you will excuse me while I freshen up from our journey." He cocked a teasing eye at Thranduil. "Actually, I dare say we both could use a change of clothing and a bath before sitting down to eat. You smell as much of horse and dusty road as I do."

"You two are hiding something," Laeriel declared, her hands in fists at her hips, "the both of you. This is no longer quite so amusing."

"We shall be happy to tell you all, my love, but let us at least bathe and relax a little first." Thranduil's brows began to knit. "A bath and then discussion during the meal. Surely…"

She threw up her hands. "Very well. I shall make certain the meal is on the table soon enough. But I expect a full accounting once we are sitting down."

Thranduil and Legolas each kissed a cheek and then hurried through the room to the stairs that led to the private family chambers. "No wonder you did not want to consider her response," Legolas commented sotto voce to his father as they reached the top of the stairs.

"We shall have to work hard just to convince her to allow us our venture," Thranduil replied in the same tone. "I was afraid of this."

"It certainly makes talking to King Thingol much more inviting…"

"Forget it, my son. You chose to tour the sparring rings and tournaments, remember? King Thingol - and most likely your grandfather - will be my burdens to bear. Although…" Thranduil cast a long look back down the stairs. "…this interview will be most excellent practice for what I face with the King and your grandfather. But go now - get yourself cleaned up, and I will too. I will need your powers of persuasion to work with mine while talking to your mother."

oOoOo

"How went your visit with our sons?" Celebrían asked, helping Elrond shed the dust-covered tunic.

He shrugged as the tunic hit the floor of the bathing chamber, then seated himself on the low bench to begin tugging on his boots. "Better than expected, actually. It seems our duo have quite a number of old friends that agree with them." He grunted as the boot finally released his foot and then tossed it on top of the discarded tunic.

"Oh?" Celebrían sounded surprised. "Who?"

"Your father for one…"

She straightened abruptly from testing the temperature of the bathing pool. "My father?"

"And Haldir," he continued, tugging on the other boot. It soon followed its mate. "And my two closest counselors, as well as Círdan, Thranduil, Legolas, Gildor Inglorion…"

With each name, Celebrían's mouth dropped open wider. " _All_ of them?" she asked finally, beyond amazed. " _All_ of them feel the same?"

Elrond nodded. "What is more," he finished as he stood and began untying the laces to his trousers, "the beginnings of a plan to remedy everyone's dissatisfaction have begun to emerge." The trousers followed tunic and boots, with braies topping the stack as he stepped slowly and appreciatively into the softly steaming pool. He turned and smiled after seating himself on the bench near the steps. "Oh, this is lovely after a long, tiring ride. You are joining me, aren't you?"

Celebrían's smile was warming in more ways than just one. "Now, how could I turn down an invitation like that?" Her hands went to her shoulders and tugged at the ends of the bow tying her light summer gown in place. Elrond's eyes glowed appreciatively as the delicate fabric slid away while her arms stayed aloft, coiling and piling her long, silver hair on top of her head, to be held in place by a miniature mithril spear with a lapis cabochon on the blunt end.

He lifted his hand to steady her steps and then guided her to a seat at his side. "I should travel more often; the benefits and pleasures of the return are never to be discounted."

"But you mentioned _everyone's_ dissatisfaction," she pointed out gently as he wrapped a long arm about her shoulders and guided her head to rest against his chest. "Do you mean that you finally gave voice to your own thoughts on the matter?"

Elrond froze for one, small moment of shock. He ran his hand up and down her upper arm soothingly, hoping that the idea he actually did agree with his sons would not cause dissention between them. The peacefulness of his home and smooth relationship with his wife was beyond price. "You knew?" he asked, wonderingly.

"Of course I did. I know _you_ , Peredhel," she answered gently. "You have said precious little when our sons would sit at the table during their visits and spout their frustrations, but I could see the agreement in your eyes." She slid an arm over his belly to hold him back. "So tell me just what it is they intend - and to what extent you will join in their efforts."

"Elladan made his case for leaving Eldamar, and Gildor took up the thought and ran with it. In the end, it was decided that we would begin by exploring the coast of Avathar, with the intent of finding a suitable place to build a new havens-like stronghold from which to launch expeditions inland." The hand continued its slow and gentle soothing. "As you can imagine, Thranduil was more than intrigued by the idea of taming another realm filled with spiders and other unknown dangers."

The silver head on his shoulder rocked back and forth. "Unbelievable! You would think he would have had enough of that already."

"Quite the contrary, evidently. From the things he and Legolas let slip, it seems Thranduil has become a recording secretary at Thingol's court in the place of his father - and chafes sorely at the task."

Celebrían was silent for a long moment. "I was expecting, perhaps, movement inland - north past Formenos and the Vanyar settlements, or south past Aulë's Halls. But Avathar! Of all places!" Despite the warm water, she shuddered and huddled closer. "I do not like to think of them putting themselves - or _you_ , my love - in such peril."

Elrond gave his wife a gentle squeeze of comfort. "I assure you, our sons are more than capable of taking good care of themselves in the wild. They spent the better part of the entire time you were here alone in Aman doing exactly that."

"You know I do not like to think of such things," she stated softly, drawing her husband's gaze at the tone of pain in her voice. Her grey-blue gaze was agonized. "I should have tried harder to stay with you - I know this. I never meant to burden any of you with guilt or…"

"Stop it." Elrond kissed her forehead tenderly. "You needed the healing offered here, and none of us begrudged your wish to find that. You would have faded in Ennor, and both you and I know it; I only regret not being able to return to your side sooner. However, the manner in which our sons dealt with your departure is not your fault or responsibility, but theirs alone." A forefinger traced the line of her chin. "I have told you this many times."

She grimaced. "I know, but it does not help, I fear. Nor does it help to hear that my father is involved in a venture to Avathar, especially now. Already he and my mother do not dwell peacefully together anymore…"

"She still has not forgiven him for continuing to have second thoughts about coming here?" Elrond frowned. "That does not bode well."

"No, it doesn't." Celebrían was, at long last, beginning to lose patience with her mother. "The last time she wrote to me, she told me that Father had chosen to remove himself to the very opposite end of the wing from her. They rarely even dine together lately." She sighed and began dabbling her hand in the warm water and bringing droplets up to Elrond's chest and watching them make their way back down again. "What makes her even angrier is that Father refuses to try to take part in the court. He spends more time sparring with Haldir than listening to council sessions with the King. He avoids social events that would give him opportunities to further his standing among the Noldor. She calls him 'lazy' in her letter…"

Elrond shook his head. "How many times have we watched this same drama between them over the years, my love? Your mother - for all her wisdom otherwise - forgets from one Long-year to the next that she married a Sindar, born in and much attached to Ennor, who would not be tamed to her side merely by the fact that she is Calaquendi. If she is not very careful, she will drive him to remain behind in any new settlement in Avathar or Araman just to avoid the battles he would face in coming home again."

"What about you? What are your intentions?"

"I will help, of course…" He looked down and into her face and then kissed her forehead. "Perhaps I will go with them at first; there will be a need for seasoned warriors and strategists for planning exploratory expeditions. But," and he kissed her again, this time on the end of the nose, "But I swear to you that I do not intend to remain away long term. I have a home here with which I am well pleased; and while I would enjoy spending time away from the attitudes of those who refuse to understand, I will always return home. Besides, I cherish our time together too much to do without your company for very long anymore."

"And I would not appreciate having to chase after you," Celebrían told him with an impish smile, "but I do not begrudge your need to go adventuring with your sons. I know better."

Elrond gave a tiny sigh of relief. "I am glad." His eyes widened as his wife's hand at his belly began to move toward far more sensitive - and pleasurable - territory. "And I think I had best finish removing the dust of the road from my hair, because it seems there is something else that I enjoy greatly that is being delayed."

"The benefits and pleasures of your return do await you, my lord," she told him with a giggle, launching herself from his arms into the center of the steaming pool, " _if_ you are up to the challenge of catching them."

There was a low chuckle, several more splashes, a shriek, and then the chamber filled with very contented sighs.

oOoOo

Laeriel waited until both Thranduil and Legolas had had a chance to fill their plates with hearty helpings of the evening meal before giving each a sharp and direct look. "We are now all sitting around the table. So which one of you wishes to tell me of the news you bring from Tirion?"

Thranduil's fork froze on its path between plate and lips. "We had an interesting series of meetings with many old friends," Legolas offered in a very conversational tone to give his father just a moment more time to set his thoughts in order. "Did Father tell you who all was there?"

"Yes, he did." Laeriel's gaze rested fixedly on her husband. "But what I am most interested in hearing is that part of the news that you believe weighs on us as a family. Thranduil?"

The former Elvenking carefully placed his fork and knife down. "Before I do that, I feel I need to tell you that I have not been entirely… satisfied… with life here in Valinor."

"Did you honestly think I had not noticed your frustrations? Even I would have found the road from being an absolute monarch to a court recorder difficult to travel." Her gaze had softened considerably. "Frankly, I am astonished you have not lost your temper or simply walked out on a meeting and caused yourself grief because of it."

"I would not do anything to humiliate my father…" Thranduil protested, his face flushed.

"Father did learn some patience in Ennor in the latter years," Legolas offered quickly. "If nothing else, having to deal with solicitous courtiers who rarely state things in a straightforward manner gave him ample experience in swallowing his ire before it made things more difficult for anyone." He turned and gave his father a teasing grin. "And I remember that negotiating trade agreements with the _edain_ from Esgaroth always was a high point of the decade."

"Not hardly!" Thranduil snorted sourly and reached for his goblet of wine. "Those fools kept coming back to my Halls every ten or so sun-rounds thinking they could fool me into changing long-standing agreements into something more in their favor - and then complained of mistreatment when I stood firm. It grew very tiresome, but I accepted it as part of the process of dealing with less-than-noble _edain_."

Laeriel shook her head. "At least you didn't throw them in the river and let them swim back to their homes. But, getting back to the topic at hand…" she hinted broadly.

"You are right, my love; you deserve to know all." Thranduil took a quick bite of venison and savored it while again putting down his fork. "The sum and substance of the meeting was that all who attended are of a similar frame of mind when it comes to Eldamar and to being discontented with what we have found here. Elladan made a suggestion that perhaps we should take responsibility for ourselves and find someplace else where we could be less unhappy."

"Someplace _else_?" Laeriel repeated slowly. "As in… where?" She wracked her brain; where else _was_ there for them but Eldamar now? Surely he wasn't thinking of trying to sail back to Ennor!

"We are moving toward exploring and settling in Avathar," Legolas stated firmly, his eyes glued to his father's face. "Somewhere that we can be free from the attitudes of the Calaquendi who never faced Morgoth or Sauron, or those who have been here long enough that they have forgotten what it meant to be challenged."

Laeriel glanced at her son, and then glanced back in astonishment. Gone was the ever-present sign of grief that he had worn like a pall since the day he'd dug his dwarven friend's grave; there was a new light, and an almost fierce determination behind his gaze. Shifting her eye to her husband, she swallowed when she saw that same determination on his face as well.

"We need to find a new home where we do not have to apologize for staying in Ennor until the very end," Thranduil added and then looked his wife in the eye. "Somewhere that I need no longer worry about spending long hours in stuffy council chambers taking notes on topics I could not care less about."

Laeriel blanched, remembering the many things she had heard about those areas of Valinor that lay beyond the protective wall of the Pelóri. "Avathar? Is that not where Ungoliant…" For a brief moment, she found herself remembering the sight of the huge spider that had penetrated her garden, whose bite had cost her the ability to watch her newborn son grow into the fine warrior he'd become. She shuddered and quickly stomped that memory back into the deep, dark place she kept it locked away.

"Yes, it is." Thranduil continued to face his wife's horrified gaze directly. "Making a new life there will not be easy - or safe. But what comes of it will be our doing, our responsibility - our accomplishment. I cannot remain as I am now, my love; I will slowly go mad." His face told Laeriel clearly that he had already made up his mind about this; he would continue on his course no matter what she said. Still…

"But they say that Ungoliant's spawn still thrives there…"

Legolas nodded. "We all have heard the rumors. But we also have battled spiders before, Mother. By the end of the War, our Mirkwood warriors were very good at battling spiders and wolves, and many other smaller dark creatures - even _yrch._ It would take time, and much work, but I am certain that we could clear this new land of its remaining shadow in much the same way we cleared our forest."

By the Belain, he sounds so confident…

"How soon are you leaving?" she whispered, fearing the worst - that they had merely returned home long enough to gather their belongings and tell her farewell. "Very soon?"

"Not at all." Thranduil shook his head. "We are still only in the planning stages, my love. There has been no date set as yet, and much yet to do beforehand."

"Besides, we intend to make our first encounter with Avathar from the sea. It is a faster and safer mode of transportation," Legolas added. "We will need to acquire ships, Círdan will have to arrange for a crew, we will have to gather supplies…"

Laeriel looked down into her plate and pushed her vegetables about. "What about me?" she asked finally in a small voice.

"I will want you with me, at my side, as soon as I know it is safe for you to be there," Thranduil declared quickly, reaching out to grasp her free hand tightly. "And we will be taking enough warriors with us to assure that safety in as expedient a manner possible."

Laeriel gazed at him sadly. "It seems as if you just arrived, Thranduil - the past seventy-five years have slipped away without hardly giving notice. I had despaired of your ever coming to join us, knowing how attached you were to your woods and your people. And now you speak of leaving again…"

"To make a new home for the both of us," Thranduil insisted passionately. "To find a place where Avor and Thinnel can feel the rhythm of the world in the land and the woods, breathe air that is sweet with the perfume of utter freedom. As it is now, I feel chained and caged in a land where the rhythm of the world is missing; as if I had been obliged to cut away a portion of my _faer_ and deny its existence." His expression turned sad. "Please tell me that I have your blessings to try for this - for our family?"

Laeriel steeled herself to gaze into beloved green eyes and not immediately give in to him, despite knowing just how much he wanted this. "Will you give me time to think? I need to get used to the idea of your leaving me behind when I have spent Long-years just hoping you would find it in your heart to come here to me…"

"You can have all the time you need," Thranduil promised. "Know that when I do leave, I do so only because I think we would fare better in this new land. If I thought differently, I would never take one step from your side."

"I know," she admitted gently, seeing the truth in that emerald gaze. "It is just very hard to imagine the both of you leaving and being gone for a long time after being spoiled by having you both underfoot now." She picked at her food. "I am afraid my appetite has left me. Eat, please, both of you; you need a good meal after your journey." She rose, looking at neither of them directly. "If you will excuse me."

Once she had left the room, Thranduil and Legolas stared at each other. "Well, that could have gone better," Thranduil sighed in frustration.

"I have a feeling this will not be the only time we discuss this," Legolas mused in response. "You did not see her before, Ada. She grieved for you, lost to her in Ennor, easily as much as you grieved for her, lost to you over here. She was like a shadow of herself until the day you sailed into Tol Eressëa with Galion. Even though I had my own cares weighing on me, I could see that your return to her brought the sun back into her world."

Thranduil stared down into his plate, and then pushed it back. "My appetite has left me as well. Forgive me, my son…" And with that, he was on his feet and moving to follow Laeriel.

oOoOo

Círdan shaded his eyes against the bright, early morning light over the eastern horizon. Around him, the soft clangs of metal on wood, the cheery voices of fishermen getting ready to set sail for their next haul, and the whushing sound of the ocean lapping at the gleaming white sands of the beach were as familiar to him as the sound of his own breathing.

The Sea. He could never get tired of it; the way her colors changed according to the mood of the skies or of Ulmo himself, the tang of salt hanging heavy in the air, the endless motion beneath his feet even on a boat tied up at the dock. The Sea had been both obstacle and tool to him over the Ages; now, it was an old friend to whom he was bringing a sore heart.

He'd known, the moment he opened his mouth at suppertime to tell of the meeting he'd attended and the decisions made there, that his world had changed irrevocably. He'd seen the sudden look of fury in the eyes of his wife, heard her voice harden and grow cold, and watched her walk away from their family supper table with back painfully erect and unyielding. It had hurt more than anything he'd ever experienced before; worse even than watching her climb aboard one of his ships after their son had been killed in the battle of Dagorlad.

And his son, his Aglaron, the bright star to which he had finally been allowed to return at the very end; he too had responded, not with understanding - or even a desire to understand - but with derision.

"Father, you do not mean to join with this foolishness, do you?"

He had hoped for better. He had maintained that hope even in light of the small comments that indicated that his wife and son shared in the same, denigrating opinion of the majority toward him and those like him who had remained behind until the bitter end. But he had known his hope to be futile.

Why, then, did the unavoidable reality of the situation make his heart ache and his eyes water?

"Círdan? You are up early this morning."

He started at the sound of his chief advisor's voice, and turned to look at him. Arnon was unusual for a Falathrim in that his build was stocky rather than tall and lithe, and his hair dark. "As are you, my friend." He turned his gaze back to the horizon and sighed.

Arnon's dark blue eyes missed very little when it came to measuring his lord's moods. "Am I missing something?"

"I told you of the meeting I attended in Tirion…"

"I remember." Arnon turned his gaze to follow that of his lord, and studied the far eastern horizon.

"Elunis and Aglaron were not pleased." That was putting it mildly, but Arnon didn't need to know everything. He knew both Elunis and Aglaron well enough to understand what Círdan wasn't saying.

Círdan saw Arnon nod, as expected, from the corner of his eye. "And how did you answer them?"

"I told Aglaron that I needed neither his permission or blessing, and that I would not be forsworn from what I had promised." He turned, finally, and faced his old friend and advisor. "What do you think?"

Arnon's eyes widened, and then he threw his head back and laughed. "I think it is about time you took a stand for yourself, my friend. You have spent the last Long-years walking on eggshells around those two. It does me good to see you stand forth for what you believe right."

"So you do not think what is planned is madness?"

Arnon shook his head. "Whether I do or not is immaterial. It is my place to advise when a decision is pending - or caution when I see imminent disaster on the horizon - and, frankly, this is neither case." He rubbed his jaw pensively. "I have to admit to some curiosity, now that you bring up the topic of Avathar. None of the men I have spoken to since we talked yesterday have dared even approach the shore to see if the fishing there is plentiful or not. Our fisherfolk prefer to head out into the Sea rather than hug the coastline."

Círdan felt his spirits rise. "So you too are intrigued by the thought of new lands - and maybe even new waters?"

"Well, it would be better to say that I am not _dis_ couraged by ancient tales of evils long past. We have fought - and survived - great evil; it is nothing we cannot do again."

"What about the others? Will they be as open to the idea?"

Arnon shrugged. "We cannot know until we ask them." He pointed to a large fishing vessel that had been pulled into dry dock on the beach. "Just promise me you will not be asking Taendir to captain any of your exploratory vessels."

Círdan's eyebrows rose. The gaping hole in the hull of the _Aearwing_ told a grim tale. "What did he do this time?"

"He decided to stay out far past any measure of safety before one of Ossë's temper tantrums struck, and then miscalculated the depth of the water trying to cut corners on the way into the harbor." Arnon scowled. "We lost two good Falathrim that dark day, and all Taendir can see is that his fish were much in demand because all the other boats had stayed in the harbor."

"And my son allows him to continue his command?" Círdan growled his frustration. "It seems that I am not the only one who indulges in foolishness! I see I will have to address this issue with him. He cannot let his friendships stand in the way of doing what is right!"

"Tell me, were you intending to turn over the responsibilities for your people to Aglaron again when you are gone on your adventure?" Arnon asked in a deceptively neutral tone.

Now Círdan's brows descended. "I may have to revisit that decision," he replied unhappily. He glanced over at his advisor. "You would not consider taking the job?"

"I would prefer a berth on whatever ship you intend to captain, my lord," Arnon answered sincerely. "My place is at your side - whether it be managing a harbor or charting unknown waters near pest-ridden shores."

Círdan put an arm about his old friend's shoulder. "That would be my pleasure, my friend. And sometime before then, we will need to consider who to promote in my place here, for I will not have one who practices favoritism holding the welfare of my people in his hands."

"I have a few thoughts on that I could share with you, if you wish." Arnon gestured toward the plain-looking building that housed the administrative offices of the harbor of Avallonë. "And I still have a small supply of that spiced tea from Harad on hand. Are you interested?"

"For spiced tea, you may have my attention for the better part of the morning! You have been holding out on me, it seems…"

 _Sindarin Vocabulary:_

 _Aearwing - Sea Spray, a fishing vessel_

 _Belain - Valar, the Gods, the Powers (sing. - Balan)_

 _edain - mortal men (sing. - adan)_

 _faer - soul, spirit_

 _Meleth - Beloved_

 _yrch - orcs (sing. - orc)_


End file.
